


Unsorry

by doodnoice



Category: South Park
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Cheating, Drug Use, Explicit Language, F/M, Jealousy, Lemon, Lime, Other, Reader Insert, References to Drugs, Romance, Smut, Substance Abuse, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:37:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2679404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodnoice/pseuds/doodnoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Stan's mission to expose you for the fraud you were. Everyone should know that you were a liar, a fake, someone to finally be defined by their actions and not their false reputation. He wanted you to suffer for what you did to him. You needed to hurt. You deserved it. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.</p><p>[eventual!Stan Marsh x Reader]<br/>discont.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsorry

CHAPTER 01: restart

ACT 01: reaping what is sown

 

The sun was still not out by the time you woke up. It was cold, almost deathly so, but your skin burned like you were basking in the glow of a vast desert. Empty liquor bottles and half burnt cigarettes littered the carpet. Your home was a mess, mirroring your current state of undress, your hair, your _fucking life_. 

If your parents were to walk in on you right now, you weren't sure how they would react. Would they cry? Would they shout at you for the failure to amounted to? Or would they just stand there and stare, not thinking one way or the other about how you felt or why you were the way you were. 

But, they didn't. And they wouldn't. The monsters you hid under your bed fled when the sun rose above the mountains. The cigarette ashes would be gone, the glass bottles discarded and you would still be the princess they thought you were, the one they wanted you to be.

"Fuck..." you murmured, rolling onto your back as you felt a stinging sensation rise up your throat. 

Stumbling, you entered your bathroom and fell to your knees, the frigid tile bruising. As you held the toilet, releasing your pain and disgust in several unpleasant up heaves of bile and acid, you sloppily wiped at your mouth, ignoring the bitter taste that lingered on your tongue.

With slow, zombie-like movements, you stood and began riding the rhythms of an a-typical morning routine.

\--

It was nearing 7:30 when you walked downstairs, a black garbage bag in one hand and a faded backpack slung lazily over your shoulder. A pair of sunglasses perched on your nose shielded your eyes from the sunlight that bled through sheer curtains. 

You might be late for school today. Not that the idea bothered you; Mondays were your worst days. They dragged on and on and were often paired with the remnants of a lonely hangover, but the reason they really sucked was due to the asshole and his oblivious friend walking past your front yard and towards the bus stop next to your house.

Stan Marsh, the aforementioned asshole in question, hated you. For what reason, you didn't know, but you definitely didn't bother finding out. It wasn't your job to make him comfortable or to ensure his appreciation of your existence. If he didn't like you, so what? The moon wasn't going to fall out of the sky because one hormonal jerk didn't think you were worth his time. 

If that was the case the world would have been long dead before you ever even met Stan. 

With a hefty sigh, you ran a hand through your hair and prepared for the inevitable as you walked through the door.

The moment you emerged from your home, Kyle nodded your way, nudging Stan to alert him of your presence. Your shoulders stooped, as if by making yourself seem smaller you could disappear and avoid being talked to while you made your way to your garage. You could hear Kyle talk to Stan, his tone stern as he mentioned something about him asking you for a ride.

Stan, of course, told Kyle something along the lines of "hell no" and kept walking, intent on waiting in the cold for the crowded bus to show up and take them both to school. Kyle, however, was having none of that and turned around, despite Stan's loud orders to stop. Kyle ran towards you, yelling your name and waving his hands as you hurriedly hopped in your car and made to drive out of your driveway.

"Holy shit!" you grunted, hitting your breaks hard so as to avoid the tall, skinny ginger running up in front of your car. When he approached you angled Kyle with a mean glare, "What the hell is your problem?! Do you know I almost just ran you over?"

Kyle, who didn't sound the least bit worried, shrugged and gave you a boyish smile. "Yeah, but you didn't."

Your mouth opened to say something else, but Stan, having followed Kyle reluctantly, beat you to the punch.

"Maybe she should have." he said, not even bothering to glance your way as he walked up to Kyle, leveling him with a hard stare, "C'mon, man. I'd rather be vomited on by Kindergartners than ride in her car. Let's get out of here."

"Stan," Kyle began impatiently, "Shut up."

Stan looked somewhat surprised by his friend's statement, but only grumbled and turned away like a scorned child. Kyle then looked at you with an apologetic grin, "Ignore him; he's having a bad week."

"Bad week, my ass..." Stan murmured. 

Kyle shook his head, ignoring Stan's comment, "Anyway, I was just wondering if you could maybe perhaps give us a ride to school? The bus schedule has been all messed up since there are a lot more kids in South Park than before... not enough buses, you know?"

You stared at him, your expression unimpressed and your hangover worsening the longer you tried to come up with any excuses to not take them... well, not take Kyle, because he hadn't done anything to you. It was Stan that was pissing you off.

As if realizing this, Kyle glanced towards Stan before leaning into your window, his voice lowered to a whisper, "I know he's an asshole and you really shouldn't even have to think about this with the way he's acting, but _please_. It's cold and unlike Stan I'd rather not be thrown up on by nervous Kindergartners on the first day of school."

Oh, yeah... It was the first day, wasn't it? Was that why you were drinking so hard last night?

You rubbed your temples, the foggy memories aching your brain. "Whatever." you groaned, waving Kyle forward. "Get in before I change my mind."

"Really?" Kyle asked, his voice light and hopeful and maybe even cute if you had not been dealing with such a tremendous hangover right now. "Stan and I can--?"

"Yes!" you growled, "You and Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass can either get in my car in the next five seconds so we can go to school or you guys can take the bus with the rest of the brats; I don't care as long as we all stop talking."

Kyle was more than happy to oblige as he hopped into the passenger seat and buckled up. And although Stan was still quietly gripping about the situation, he sat in the back nonetheless and kept to himself, deciding, quite wisely, to stare out the side window.

Maybe if he was this quiet before you wouldn't have broken up.

**Author's Note:**

> It's kind of a short chapter, but it was the best place I could see to stop at before things pick up. Stan definitely wasn't the main focus right now, but he definitely gets his place later on. No worries. If there are any problems/errors, please point them out to me so I can fix 'em. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
